A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Bryson Tiller


Oh, you said, we wasn't gon' pop off?
That's what I thought you said
Now, let me offer this as a rebuttal

Ooh, ooh
Gang, gang, gang
f*ck what y'all was talkin' 'bout
Gang, gang, gang
This how we used to do, you know what I'm sayin?
Drop the sh*t, f*ck it

[Verse 1]
Ever since I got to Europe, I've been planning to see
20 million once again, this time, I'm playing for keeps
I went double on my first, f*ck you saying to me?
I'll quit talking sh*t when these n*ggas quit playing with me
God damn Birmingham, I got them bands on me
He see 9,000 when he put the scan on me
Now, he seen 20,000 apple, put the scan on me
You-you get knocked off, get your dapper dan from me
O-okay, I got the sauce, go heat up the pan for me
You fast food r&b, yeah, that's too bland for me
Aye, she a freak, oh, she gon' do that with two hands for me
She never f*cked a rapper, she gon' take a chance for me
I go beastmode n*gga, God Tiller, know that's me hoe
He ain't no threat to me, I turn him to a mink coat
You ain't safe, it's a breach hoe
Get down on your knees, ya'll gon' make me trigger squeeze
Gah damn, hold on, hold on, hold on

(ya'll gon' make me trigger squeeze)
Like metaphorically tho, not actually busting gats and sh*t
f*ck it, hold on, we ain't done, let me rap

[Verse 2]
Before you drop another track, I'm gon need my swag back
Couple n*ggas been my sons, f*ck a dad hat
I ran up on my stats, you gon have to match that
Before you talk anymore trash, not behind my back
Buddy, say it to my face, shawty told me everything
Don't you love when n*ggas hate on the sh*t they can't make
I got a lot to say, I should drop a mixtape
f*ck it, that sh*t is on the way
Let's go!

Gang, gang, gang
God Tiller!
Back on my sh*t, you know what I'm saying, just having fun

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

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